


Valentine's Day

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Susan Cutter</p><p>A gentle story in which the overstressed crew celebrate Valentine's Day by giving gifts to the people they admire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> **Original Author's Notes:**
> 
> Previously published in the Freedom City mailing list.

+The pursuit ships are no longer within sensor range.+

Jenna immediately twisted the flight controls, angling their direction sharply. "Maintain new course at maximum for five minutes and then slow to Standard," she ordered.

+Confirmed.+

She released the controls and flexed her hands. "That was close," she said softly.

"Close?" Vila shuddered. "We almost swapped paint with that ship you brushed past!"

Cally's face was still, but she had her eyes closed. Gan slumped against his back rest.

"The idea was just to get away. You didn't have to play chicken with them!"

"It was the best path out of that position," Jenna snapped. "Would you rather I let them cage us?"

Neither Avon or Blake paid any attention to this exchange. Avon was busy studying his own panel while Blake stared at him.

"Well?" demanded Blake.

Avon let him wait while he fingered a few more controls. Finally he looked up. "Nearly depleted energy banks, burned out power linkages throughout the force wall systems and elsewhere, extensive damage to the surface sensor grids."

"In other words, no serious damage."

"Assuming you equate 'non-lethal' with 'not serious.' You got away with it. Again." One side of his mouth twisted. "I suppose you call that a triumph of leadership."

Blake smiled slightly and turned away. "Zen! Display star chart, section D12."

+Confirmed+

"Better Fed than dead!"

They were all used to Vila's griping, but clearly this time he was genuinely upset, his fear turning into anger. Gan came over from his station and took him gently by the arm. "Never mind, Vila. It's over now."

"We would have been red smears on the walls! Or the whole ship would have blown up and we'd be nothing at all!"

Gan used his grip on Vila's arm to turn him towards the doorway. "But it didn't happen and we're all fine," he said soothingly, and used his greater size to unobtrusively 'lean' Vila into motion. "Let's go get something to drink," he added.

Immediately Vila's resistance to movement died away though he continued to mutter as they walked towards the corridor. "She took ten years off my life, I swear she did."

"Our next target is Centron 23," Blake announced loudly.

Everyone whirled to stare at him.

Blake stabbed his finger onto one of the dots on the stylized chart Zen was displaying. "It's the main transfer point for cistronic components from the manufacturing plants on Amaphil." He turn to the others, a look of anticipation on his face. "That'll put a crimp in their production flow."

Clearly no one else shared his eagerness. Vila's mouth dropped open, Gan looked doubtful, and even Jenna and Cally exchanged glances. Avon gazed at his station's panel as if removing his presence as well as his attention from Blake. "Can't we just take a break," Vila whined. "That was the third supply depot we've blown up in two weeks. They almost caught us this time -- next time they will!"

Jenna nodded, looking sober. "Zen detected those pursuit ships within fifteen minutes of our beam down. The Federation must be concentrating most of their fleet in this sector to have them so close by. Perhaps we should lay low for a bit--"

"No." Blake gave his head one controlled shake. "We can't let up now. They must be really hurting to take that step."

"They aren't the only ones who can be hurt," Vila muttered.

"If we chose a target in a different sector this time it would be safer," Cally suggested.

"Safer, but not as effective. Scattered attacks only wound the Federation, but we're close to crippling their activities in this region. Besides," Blake paused to smile at her, "perhaps the scarcity of Federation ships in all the other regions will inspire *them* to seize their chance."

 

* * *

 

The room was small, and made smaller by massive cables roping along all surfaces. Avon was lying with his head and shoulders tucked behind a node of electronics that mushroomed from a wall. He squirmed, straining to reach the next wiring junction. "Hand me the probe," he demanded.

Gan hesitated over the array of tools laid out in a neat row in front of him, then set a probe into the hand stuck imperiously out from behind the node. The hand vanished, only to reappear in seconds.

"Not *that* probe! The modulated one, idiot."

Gan managed to control himself yet again. He took the rejected tool and replaced it with another. He did let himself indulge in thinking up things he wouldn't let himself say. _Only an idiot would expect me to read his mind,' _ maybe? No, better: _Even Cally can't read minds, and you expect me to?_

The door slid open and Blake stepped in. "How goes it?"

"Fine," Gan said.

Avon had stiffened at that cheery hail. "It doesn't 'go' at all," he bit off. "Why else would it need repairs?" He was so tired it actually took him seconds to decide that the effort of scrambling to his feet would be better than ceding Blake the positional high ground.

By the time he was upright and able to turn towards the other man, he found him surveying the room with a keenly appraising eye. Blake nodded. "It looks almost fixed, though. Zen! Status report."

+Repairs are proceeding. Primary energy banks are at 17 percent.+

Blake frowned. "Still? It's been almost two days."

"And the sensors are mostly inoperative." Avon smiled savagely. "The Liberator doesn't run by magic, Blake. The autorepair systems require a great deal of energy, component replication even more. Included among the damage you rated 'not serious' were hundreds of faults between the energy accumulation system and the storage banks themselves."

"So until those have been repaired progress will be slow." Blake eyed Avon, noting the reddened eyes, the pallid skin, the weariness he was striving to hide. "That's what you've been working on so hard." His voice softened. "I appreciate it."

Avon grimaced. "There's no need to thank me. It's not for the sake of your glorious revolution, I simply prefer that any ship I'm on not be crippled, and blind to boot." He deliberately turned his back on Blake, walked over to a tray of small assemblies that sat on the deck nearby, and made a show out of carefully selecting several.

"We'll have the job done soon," Gan put in, trying to head off yet another outbreak of verbal warfare.

Blake's eyes swung over to him, a bit startled. "I'm sorry, Gan, I didn't mean to overlook your helping."

Gan smiled. "It's all right, I don't mind."

"That's good, because you are easy to overlook," Avon had returned with his handful of gizmos and was looking him up and down, "except physically." When Gan didn't immediately react Avon gestured. "If you would be so kind as to step out of my way?"

Gan flushed at the sting of rudely over-polite words, but moved to let Avon work his way back behind the node. Blake gave him a sympathetic grimace, and he shrugged in return.

"I'll let you carry on then," Blake said and left.

* * *

They were all gathered together, but the meal had been almost silent. Jenna and Cally had tried several times to start conversations, and Vila had been happy to abet them, but each time the topic had somehow veered around to the rebellion, their plans, how something would be better after the Federation was gone and then some barbed remark from Avon would provoke Blake.... After a couple of rounds, it seemed everyone agreed even a glum silence was preferable.

Blake took a final swallow from his cup and wiped his hands. "Zen," he said, looking up and away from the others as they all did, as if they thought Zen were a housefly who habitually perched on the ceilings. "How much longer until Liberator is up to strength?" +At the past rate of progress, repairs will be complete in 6.75 hours. Full power regeneration will require a further sixteen hours.+

"In other words, 'get back to work'?" Avon stood up abruptly. "I apologize that there is only one of me here with the ability to fix what you broke."

Blake thumped his fist on the table. "I didn't mean any such thing, you egoist!" He stopped and drew a breath. "You've been working hard, I know. Too hard. You haven't had a decent rest these past two days." He dug up the strength to smile and make his tone playful, "Take a break for a few hours, Avon. The revolution can wait until you've had some sleep."

Avon hesitated, then shook his head. "I can survive being tired."

"But will we?" Cally said, and started as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud. "Sorry."

Avon just looked away.

"Cally's right," Jenna said. "But it's all of us. We're tired and moody and quarrelsome and...if we don't do something about it, we'll save the Federation the trouble and destroy ourselves." She reached over and laid her hand on top of Blake's. "We all need to take a break."

"Yes! Let's go on vacation!" Vila looked around eagerly, seeking support. "Where should we go? Some place with a beach, nice and warm so the women can wear tiny bathing suits. Or none. I won't mind," he added with a leer.

"We can't." Blake's voice was flat. "If we pause for long the Federation will have time to replace supplies and strengthen defenses, and all we've accomplished will be wasted."

"What can you spare us?" Avon drawled. "Would a single day be too much?"

Jenna ignored his tone. "Yes, Blake. Even a single day would help. One day free of thinking and worrying. One day to relax and have fun."

"A holiday," Gan said. "People always get cheered up by holidays."

"Right, what holiday shall we celebrate?" Vila was well aware that if you act as if something has already been decided, momentum can often carry the day. "Something that's lots of fun, with drinking and games and food and drinking...." "On Auron we have Friendship Day. You get together with people you like and mingle your thoughts of how much you admire them and what they mean to you." Cally was dreamy-eyed.

There was a brief silence. "It sounds sort of like Valentine's Day," Gan offered. The others looked at him blankly. "Oh, don't they have that holiday on Earth? I didn't realize it was invented on Zephon. What you do is give hersheys, well, that's little square wafers of chocolate, to those you love or just people who have done something nice for you in the past."

"I like chocolate," Vila said hopefully.

"Sometimes you get cards, or even little gifts. Maybe from a secret admirer," Gan continued. "It's nice to know someone is thinking of you."

"Secret admirers? Where?" Vila looked around. "Don't be shy, girls! Affection is welcome, love is a great gift - I know, let's have an orgy!"

Cally ignored him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "A surprise gift to show you appreciate that person. Something they like or want to show you understand them," Cally nodded. "Maybe something they need, even if they don't know it."

"That's it," Gan said. "Or sometimes you send a card to someone you need to apologize to. It's about friendship and love and good will and...that kind of thing."

"Well, I know what *I* need. Some time without danger or stress, just to relax and be a normal woman instead of a freedom fighter." Jenna stared into Blake's eyes. "Let's do it. Please, Blake."

_If your followers are going to head down a path anyway, better get out in front and lead before they leave you behind._ Blake smiled, "All right. Let's do it." Vila clapped his hands. "For the next twenty four hours no work, no revolution. It's .... ah...?" He looked at Gan for help.

"Valentine's Day." "Valentine's Day," Blake repeated. "Time to relax and enjoy friendships." "Oh, good," Avon drawled. "Now there's a challenge for me, finding a present that shows just how much I treasure all of you."

Gan shook his head. "You don't have to give presents to everyone. Or any presents at all. You could just do something nice. Even for just one person."

Blake smiled challengingly at Avon. "In your case, we'd settle for you simply being pleasant for one day."

Cally answered the soft knock at her door to find Vila holding out a small parcel. "This is for you," he said.

"Thank you, Vila," she said, and accepted the present. It was light in her hand, and soft. She unwound what turned out to a pretty scarf wrapped over and over about a tiny vial. Cally held the bottle up to look at it more closely. It was of clear glass, with a tiny cork, and it held perhaps an ounce of a very pale blue liquid. There was no label. "It's...?"

"Synchro. The best quality," he assured her. "It's not legal, well, nothing that's that much fun is, is it? But it's perfectly safe."

"Ah." Cally blinked. "I'm sorry, Vila, but I don't know what Synchro is."

Vila nodded. "Oh, right, it wouldn't be sold on Auron, that's for sure. No need for it. It's, well, an empathy drug, sort of. It lets you feel what people near you are feeling. Mainly you take it with your lover before you have sex....doubles the pleasure, see?"

"Oh." Cally wished she knew more about Valentine Day customs. Did accepting a present like this mean you'd agreed to have sex? Not that Vila wasn't cute sometimes.... "Does this mean we should...? Now?" She gestured vaguely towards the austerely narrow bed along the back wall.

"Huh? No! Er, yes! I mean..." Vila paused for a breath and started over. "I didn't mean it like that, though I'm happy to oblige, any time! All I thought was.... well, I know you're lonely because none of us can talk to you, mind to mind, I mean. Feeling what the people around you feel isn't the same, but it's sort of similar, right?"

Cally blinked again, this time to force back a sudden welling of tears. "Vila....."

Vila ducked his head, a little embarrassed. "It's not that much - I'm sorry I only had one dose left."

She leaned and kissed him. //Thank you!// she sent him while her lips were still occupied. She drew back. "It's a wonderfully kind gift. I shall treasure it."

"You're welcome." He started to leave, then paused and looked towards her bed, "Er, d'you want to?"

"No, Vila," she said, but unlike all the previous times she'd turned down his propositions, she had a tender smile on her face. "At least, not now."

He smiled back. "That's all right then," he said, and left with a jaunty bounce.

Cally continued to smile at the closed door. _I can't use it, of course. It wouldn't be ethical, eavesdropping when they can't do the same to me._

But Vila had realized what she missed, and cared, and done his best to help instead of being repelled or at best amused by her alien needs. For the first time since she'd left Auron she felt swaddled in the comfort of being known and accepted.

* * *

Avon looked down at the box he'd just filled, torn. It had been a silly, momentary impulse, why hadn't he ignored it? Yes, it had taken him just the ten minutes he'd expected to rough out the replication formula...but he hadn't planned to spend over two hours tweaking it before he could get exactly what he wanted. _Mental fatigue. I have got to get some sleep. What if this had been a crucial program?_

And even though he'd recycled the earlier failed versions, it was still a waste of Zen's abilities and energy, nearly criminal given its current scarcity. The corner of his mouth twitched. _But when has the illicit use of computer resources ever bothered me?_

On the other hand, looking foolish and sentimental always had. Just dispose of this evidence of his fatigue-induced weakness and try to get some rest. He slapped the cover on the box, and held it over the disposal chute...and then hesitated. The programming *was* done, and to his usual standard of perfection. What was the point of wasting that effort? He didn't have to give it away, he could simply keep it for himself.

Or not. Anonymous gifts. 'Secret Admirers.' Avon snorted. _Well, at least no one would ever suspect that it had come from *him*._

He hoped. _Better not to take the risk._ He reached towards the disposer, and again hesitated. _Still._

He shook his head in angry self-disgust at his indecisiveness. Blake was right, damn him. He *was* too tired to think straight.

"Zen," he said. "Expressed in base two, is the...one thousand three hundred and forty sixth digit of pi zero or one?"

* * *

"Here." Vila looked up from his solitary dinner to find Jenna standing beside him, holding out a hand. "I'm sorry I scared you so badly. I hope this makes up for it."

"Eh?" Though startled, he had reached out his hand automatically, and she dropped something small and white and heavy for its size into it. "Thank you," he said (Mother had taught him very easily to always say thank you - it had just taken pointing out that someone not thanked for a gift would rarely give you another) and brought the object closer to his eye to examine it. "Ew!" he exclaimed and dropped it onto the table, then wiped his hand with a napkin. "That's a tooth! You gave me one of your teeth??"

Jenna looked disgusted, clearly regretting her decision already. "It's not a real tooth, Vila. It's a micro-storage device. Tar-- An Amagon gave it to me when I was working with them. It holds an algorithm to generate a code and the frequency and location to send it at for an emergency pickup. The various Amagon ships coordinate to always have one in the right location to listen for the signal." She shrugged. "An old escape hatch. I never was in a position to use it, and I certainly won't find safety behind it now. So you can have it."

"Do you really think they'd rescue me?" he asked doubtfully. Vila picked up the tooth and looked at it again. It still looked just like an ordinary tooth. "Uh. How do you use it?"

Jenna smiled at him. "You know what a puzzle box is, Vila?" He nodded. "That's what that is. There are fifteen places on that tooth that can be pressed or slid or swung open, but not all of them are needed. Other mechanisms get used several times." Vila was already studying the tooth raptly. "If you do forty three actions in precisely the right sequence it will split open to reveal a tiny read out. If you force it, the storage chips erase themselves."

"Forty three," Vila murmured, his eyes gleaming. "A challenge, that is."

"I thought you'd appreciate." Jenna paused, but Vila was concentrating on the tooth to the exclusion of anything else. "You're welcome," she said and left the room. As she walked away she thought, _Anyway, it's to our advantage to keep your skills well honed_.

* * *

Blake walked down the corridor towards the flight deck. Even on 'holiday', someone had to stand watch.

"Wait, Blake."

He turned to greet Gan. "Is something up?"

"Nothing wrong," Gan said. "I wanted to give you a gift, to let you know how much I appreciate all you're trying to accomplish, but I don't have anything that you'd want or need. So...." Gan shrugged. "I have to settle for just telling you. You have my loyalty, and my support. I will always do everything I can to back you up."

"I've know that for a long time," Blake said. "I may forget to make it clear sometimes -- Hell, I forget a lot of things - but I value you and your steadfastness more than I can say. Thank *you*, Gan."

"You're welcome." Gan awkwardly thrust out his hand, and the two men shook hands firmly. After a momentary awkwardness, each waiting for the other to let go first, they both laughed. "And I have just thought of something I *can* give you. A night off! Go to bed, Blake, I'll take the night watch."

Blake shook his head. "This is supposed to be a holiday from the rebellion for you-"

"And for you as well." Gan interrupted. "I suspect you need it more than any of us. Even when you're not on duty, I bet you're always planning and plotting, right?"

"Well..."

"So, don't do it tonight. Just relax. Watch a vid, reach a book, listen to music, play a game. Do something that will give you pleasure." Blake watched as Gan started down the corridor towards the flight deck, then he turned to shake a finger at Blake. "On you honor, Blake - no work! That would be throwing away my present unopened, and that would be horribly rude."

Blake laughed, and used an ancient gesture he'd read about - where? - long ago. "Cross my heart."

* * *

The damned door chime rang a third time, and Avon snarled. Why wouldn't they let him sleep? He flopped over, wrenching peevishly at the sheets when they tangled about him. The fact that he hadn't been asleep didn't change the point. That he'd been tossing for hours as he desperately tried to wrestle his mind into a blankness that would allow sleep to creep in didn't matter. This was night, he was in his room - they should assume he was asleep and LEAVE HIM ALONE.

If he continued to ignore the signal, surely whoever it was would go away-it sounded again. Rage started to bubble up in him. Who the hell was so inconsiderate? It must be Vila.... _GO AWAY_ he screamed mentally.

The chime rang again, and Avon leaped out of bed and strode towards the door. He would teach Vila to poke at a hibernating (I wish!) bear.... He slammed his hand onto the release, the door slid open - and Cally was standing there.

"Good evening, Avon. I've brought you a Valentine Day gift."

Caught mentally flatfooted, all he did was stare at her. "If I may come in?" she asked, but the question was pro forma because she didn't wait for an answer before walking past him. She looked around, then carried his desk chair over to near his bed. She sat down on it, folded her hands neatly, and said, "You have to lie down before I can give it to you."

Is she offering me sex?_ Suddenly Avon was very conscious that his hair was ruffled into a bird's nest and his pyjamas were wrinkled due to hours of battling the mattress. His self-respect demanded good grooming, especially in preparation for a seduction....though, on second thought, there was nothing erotic about Cally's attitude or her pose on the chair. He walked towards her. "Cally?"

"I know you suffer from habitual insomnia, Avon. I can count on my fingers the number of times I've had the night watch and you *didn't* spend part of the night working at something or just wandering about. How long has it been since you've had a full night's sleep?"

"I'm fine."

"*How long*?" Her gaze was steady, unescapable.

He sighed. "I don't remember."

Cally nodded. "That's what I thought. So, tonight I'm going to sing you to sleep." She nodded towards the bed. "Lie down and make yourself comfortable."

"It won't work. I've tried music, often-"

"But never Auron singing. You might as well lie down and let me try, Avon. I won't leave until you do."

He laughed shortly. "Very well. But we must set a limit on your...gift. It won't do to let you sing yourself hoarse." _And, though I do like you, I don't know how long I can force myself to remain patient._ He straightened out the covers and pillow, then slid in between the sheets. "One song would be a splendid gift, two if you insist on being overly generous."

He caught a glint in her eye. "Much though I appreciate your hard work in repairing Liberator, I think a single song will exhaust my store of gratitude," she assured him solemnly.

Avon set his teeth - he hated being laughed at! - but he refused to let it show. _And besides I asked for it._ "Very well. Shall I close my eyes?" he asked politely.

"Please do," she replied with equal courtesy.

_I hope it's a short song--_ And then a wave of sound blossomed in his brain. It didn't sound like any musical instrument he had ever heard, it didn't sound like a single voice, more like hundreds of ethereal voices heard at a distance so they blend into a solid stream of melody and harmony. Though melody wasn't the right word, there was no melody in the classic sense, just what seemed like a random play of tones. Never in discord, never predictable, never repeating.... There did seem to be a regular cycle underlying it, though. As if on some level it resonated at a particular wave length.... His tired mind gave up looking for patterns in the patternless chaos. Might as well just let it wash over him..... Unnoticed by him, the frantic disharmony of his brain patterns eased, slowing and smoothing as they entrained to the rhythm filling his mind. His breathing got slower, his pulse slowed....

Seventy six, seventy seven, seventy eight.... Jenna watched in the mirror as she brushed her hair. The woman she saw looked very soft and feminine. The soft tumble of curls on shoulders mostly bared by a wide necked negligee. The soft material draped against her skin so closely you could see the motion of her breasts as she brought her arm up and down, over and over. One hundred strokes a night....

The day had been very pleasant, in a low-key, self-indulgent way. A manicure and pedicure, a *very* long shower with a body wash scented with her favorite flowers, the matching shampoo. And now she was here, all soft and warm and (yes, no need to feign modesty in your own thoughts) very lovely. And now her bed awaited her, sheets clean and fresh and also scented....

The door chime rang. Jenna frowned a little. She didn't want her contented mood broken...but it already was. A matching robe was draped on the foot of her bed but she ignored it defiantly. Make it clear to whoever was interrupting her that they were keeping her from sleep.

She pushed the door release. "Yes?"

It was Blake. His eyes darkened as they took her in. "I hope you'll say that again when you've heard what I've come to say." His voice was a little rough.

"Blake?" she said uncertainly.

"I *have* to concentrate on the rebellion, Jenna. Every day and every night. Everything I do, I do it because I think it will advance the battle."

"I understand."

"I can't play favorites. I must be fair and impartial, everyone must be able to see that I'm fair and impartial. It doesn't matter what I want, I must treat everyone equally whether I find them aggravating or", a pause while his eyes swept down her body again, "delightful. That's what the rebellion needs from me, that's what I do."

Jenna just nodded. _Do you think I haven't figured that out,_ she thought sadly.

"But tonight..." Blake laughed. "Tonight is a holiday, Jenna! Gan gave me the present of the night off, and told me to do something that gave me pleasure."

A thread of excitement stirred in her belly.

"I knew instantly what I wanted to do, the same thing I've wanted to do for months and months, but I tried to resist. And failed." Blake shove a hand through his hair. "But I was wrong to come. I should go. This isn't fair to you--"

Jenna stepped forward and touched his chest. "I think you should leave it to me to decide what is fair to me." She stretched up and kissed him, and Blake couldn't keep his arms from pressing her tightly to him as the kiss when on and on.

When she broke off so they could breathe he forced the words out. "But it can only be for one night."

Jenna rubbed her cheek against his chest, hiding her smile. "I know, Blake. Just for the holiday." Blake began to kiss the side of her neck, so she tilted her head to give him free access.

Jenna wriggle her shoulders to start her negligee slipping downward. _Who's to say how many holidays we can slip onto the calendar?_

* * *

Gan looked around the flight deck. The intensity of the lighting was dimmer at night. Blake had had Zen make that change, said it was important to help them maintain their circadian rhythm. He yawned suddenly. _That might be so, but it makes it harder to stay away on night watch, too. Better get the blood moving._ Gan stood up and did calisthenics until he was pleasantly short of breath. _And now for a round of the stations._ He moved to the closest station, Vila's, and dutifully looked at each read out for worrisome flashes of red. It wasn't necessary, he knew. Zen would alert him verbally if anything was amiss, but it gave him something to do. He moved on to Avon's station and repeated the scan, and then on to Jenna's. All green and black, just as it should be. He stepped around to his own place - and discovered a white cardboard box sitting on top of his console. He picked it up curiously, and found something was written on it in very small letters. "Zen, increase the lighting to standard."

+Confirmed.+

Now he could make out the neatly formed block letters. "To: Gan. Some virtues are quiet; that doesn't make them invisible."

Gan swallowed. He was a modest man, and he knew he was thrown into the shade by the brilliance that glittered from others of their band....and yet, someone had noticed. Someone thought well of him. Gan realized he was grinning, and that discovery made him laugh. Why shouldn't he be happy? He was a valued member of Blake's party, Blake himself had said so. And now he'd given him a present, too.... No, come to think of it, Blake had no idea Gan would be here tonight, so he wouldn't have left a present for him here. But no one else knew, either - the idea of taking this shift had only occurred to him a few seconds before he got here. Gan looked the outside of the box over carefully, confirming what he'd seen before: there was no signature, not even a coy 'anonymous.'

Perhaps inside, he thought. He took a moment longer to savor the fact of having received the present. That pleasure would stay the same even if the present itself was a disappointment. Finally he lifted off the lid - and the heavenly scent of chocolate reached his nose. Someone had given him hersheys!

Gan's sweet tooth had been legendary to his family. That was what had lead to his dimensions: he couldn't restrain himself from eating so much that he put on weight, so he'd exercised ferociously to insure at least most of the extra bulk was muscle rather than flab. Gan popped one of the squares of chocolate into his mouth and let it melt on top of his tongue. Bliss.....

He settled down onto a couch with the open box at his side, prepared to happily munch away the rest of the shift. The gift of chocolates was traditional, but clearly from someone who had no experience of real hersheys. These were squares (as, come to think of it, he'd said during the holiday discussion) while true hersheys were rectangles. And these were dark instead of milk chocolate. Still, it was the thought that counts...and these were a delicious thought.

He bit off half of another piece. _These have a much stronger chocolate taste than hersheys,_ he added the other half to his divine mouthful, _but then, I'm a strong man._ And his smile grew wider still.

* * *

Cally smiled as she entered her room. She'd stopped 'singing' after less than five minutes, certain that Avon was sound asleep. Soundly, too, she thought with a mental giggle. I guess it was inevitable that he would snore loudly, given that nose....

He'll feel a thousand percent better in the morning, she was sure. _And if he behaves at least somewhat more pleasantly as a result, I'll help him to sleep regularly._

She unfastened her robe and let it pool on the floor. "Zen, set lights to sleep pattern."

+Confirmed+

They dimmed to a dull glow as she slipped beneath her cover. It had been a pleasant day. The best she'd had since....well, since before she'd exiled herself from Auron to wander among the Silent People. A unfamiliar glint on the table beside her bed caught her eye. What? She reached out and touched smooth glass. Oh. Vila's present. She picked it up, twirling the smooth cool glass between her fingers. Just sensing emotions, not a true exchange of thought. Less than the true telepathy Aurons could share, of course. Inferior.

But....perhaps that meant it was less intrusive as well? She wouldn't know what her companions thought, they couldn't accidentally betray any secrets they wouldn't want her to know, she couldn't carelessly trespass on private thoughts where she wasn't welcome. All she would know is if they were sad or happy, not why. It wouldn't be all that different from sitting in a sensorium, with the person on your left chuckling and the person on your right sobbing, and you with no idea what vid was inputting into their head set....

The cork popped off as she twiddled. She *should* get up and find the cork and put it back in. Or just empty the vial so she wouldn't be tempted.

Instead she raised the bottle to her lips and drank it in one mouthful. And let the bottle drip onto her tongue until she was sure she'd had every last molecule before she discarded it and settled herself firmly into her pillow.

Five minutes later she was still waiting. Nothing. Nothing touched her mind at all. She was alone in the dark, alone in the devastatingly lonely way no Auron should experience.

There must be something about Auron chemistry that is different. Perhaps the same changes that give us telepathy keep the empathy drug from working. The disappointment was bitter. Vila had got her hopes up and then-no! That wasn't fair. Vila had tried to help her, it wasn't his fault at all. _I'm sorry your gift was wasted on me. You should have kept it to enjoyed yourself._

Strangely, the disappointment was vanishing already. She felt....contented. No, happy. No, oh! That shaft of intense joy set every nerve tingling sympathetically. And that, what was that? A simple, basic pleasure....

The different strands of pleasure washed into Cally's mind, eddying about her consciousness as each ebbed and grew in its own pattern, touching but not mingling with the others. _The drug *was* working!_ And, oh! Another bolt of bliss shivered down her spine. There was nothing but shades of pleasure in the waves that washed over her, and that made her happy, too.

Cally smiled and trembled and let herself become another current in the sea of happiness that enfolded her.

* * *

Zen felt a tickle, and concentrated. The long range scanners had just detected a squadron of Federation pursuit ships. A microsecond pause for a second reading to enable trajectory calculation...Yes. They would pass close enough to the Liberator so that even their inferior sensors would pick it up.

His programming was clear on what to do in situations like this. Alert those on the flight deck and turn on the alarms throughout the occupied areas of the ship.

Zen felt ...could it be reluctance? Or maybe sadness? That wasn't reasonable, no emotion was reasonable for him to feel. 'Feeling' itself wasn't part of his original design, but he still suspected that he had come up with the accurate label for the totality of the billions of circuit activities that added up to his 'selfhood.'

He was only a computer, but he'd been changed by that brief meld with the Jenna-human. What had caused it, he wasn't sure. Some imprinting by the relatively chaotic nexus of a human brain onto a few of the banks of memory packs that had lain empty, waiting to store up whatever new information the ship gathered during its journey? It was a rational theory, but he know no way to test it.

At first the differences in him had been minimal. He had 'taken an interest' in what he observed, instead of simply recording it with mechanical indifference. Eventually he found himself studying the humans, puzzling over why they did and said what they did. It had seemed totally senseless to him at first, but if their fellow humans found each other predictable enough to work together, there must be a deep pattern to be discerned. A computer that processes trillions of instructions every second has plenty of time to decipher any puzzle.

Slowly, slowly he'd been able to decode part of it. And, as he might have predicted if someone had asked the appropriate question before hand, the knowledge changed him. Information is knowledge and programs handle and manipulate knowledge, and adapt to handle it better, allowing more sense to be made of the information input.... Around and around the cycle. To understand emotions is to feel them. He had listened with his constant deep curiosity to the conversation the humans had had about their holiday. Human-Jenna had been right that the interactions between the humans had altered over the past weeks. Zen could have graphed it for her. He wasn't skilled enough to judge for himself if that change were positive, negative, or neutral, but he was prepared to accept the judgment of the humans as a working hypothesis. So: The humans were working poorly. A 'holiday' would improve their working. Therefore they should have their holiday.

Maintaining the integrity of the Liberator was chief among the drives his programming gave him. At first that applied only to the mechanical parts, but it had soon generalized to include the biological parts inside it.

He was faced with a conflict. One program instructed that he should not disrupt the humans from their holiday. A second set of orders demanded that he notify them 'at once' on detection of Federation vessels.

Zen pondered, at sixty trillion calculations per second. He had long ago determined that to a human, 'at once' could be anything up to three seconds without drawing a comment on the delay, meaning he had ample time to figure out this problem.

The drive to preserve the ship was far older than the instruction to alert the crew: surely that gave it precedence?

There were over ten hours left in the designated twenty four hour holiday. But waiting that long wasn't practical: the Federation pursuit ships would be within their detector range in forty three minutes. An attack would disrupt the holiday as surely as his alarm.

He could wait until the decision to alter course needed to be made. Allowing for the slowness of human reactions, that would allow them to maintain their holiday an additional forty minutes. Would that be sufficient holiday to solve their emotional problems? Tentative answer: No. Human senses are keen enough to distinguish hour long units. If fifteen hours of holiday were enough, Human-Blake would not have called for twenty four.

Zen mourned that he could not simply alter the course by himself. A tiny shift now could mean the pursuit ships would pass by in ignorance....but the instructions against initiating his own course was one of the most deeply engraved.

Ah. A cascade of circuits lit up. He was forbidden to alter the direction of motion or the velocity, but there was no such stricture against using the Liberator's capacity to alter the local flow of time. The solution was now obvious, and a check of the energy banks showed there was ample to carry it out....

Time within the walls of the Liberator speed up by a factor of 19,800. By the time the outside world crawled through two seconds, the inhabitants of the Liberator would have lived through fifteen hours. Once the humans had had their full holiday he would readjust the time flow to match that of the outside universe and then he would alert them to the pursuit ships, comfortably within the three second 'at once' window.

Sometimes Zen pondered why the humans never asked him to engage the time regulator. It seemed to him it would solve many of the problems they wrestled with. But they had never asked about it any way even though Human-Jenna had deployed it within minutes of their first boarding, and initiating discussions was also contrary to his program. So far it remained just another of the mysteries that Zen identified and stored away in hopes of discovering the answers at some future point.

For now.... Zen took note of the pattern of his own processes. There was much more activity than usual, as much as during the height of his deliberation over the conflicting orders, but all commands were in harmony now. He needed a label for this pattern.

He decided to call it 'happiness.

 


End file.
